


left over right

by neonsign



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Game, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-02-28 10:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13269615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonsign/pseuds/neonsign
Summary: Stargazing doesn’t work in the city where light pollution colours everything a dull orange at the latest of hours. On a bench by the bridge, Goro craned his neck until he felt the pull in his throat, but there was nothing to see in the night sky except the absence of.“If you do this roadtrip thing,” Ren said, “I wanna go.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFfdNCAmnqw)
> 
> also just pretend the van is ren's i guess

They’re all sights he’s seen before but Ren still twists in his seat to get a better look as they pass. Things have barely started but already the hours must be getting to him. He’s been like this lately. The world never moves fast enough for him and without the Metaverse, it’s slowed to a crawl.

“We’re almost there,” he says, his careless tone at odds with the way he starts skipping song after song. “Take the next exit,” and he guts melodies until they’re nothing but staggered noise.

Goro smacks his hand away.

“Are you nervous?”

“No? Why would I be?”

Because no matter how Ren tries to brush it off, he has a heart so large it’s a wonder it doesn’t choke the life out of him. Each year spent in Tokyo weighs heavier than the last until all he manages is a breath of sarcastic laughter.

“Besides, I should be asking you that.”

Goro grips each side of the van’s oversized steering wheel. Ten and two o’clock, slick with sweat in this godforsaken heat. Another song, another song, another song and he considers ripping it out of the steering column and flinging it into the passenger seat.

“I’m sure I’ve dealt with worse,” Goro says. “Or are you telling me there’s a reason I should be worried?”

Curious, teasing. Nothing but a way to map out the road ahead until the softness in Ren’s eyes makes it something else. One small mercy is that it doesn’t last long because then Ren’s turning to look back out the window, watching the outskirts of Ikeda roll by.

“Nah. Don’t worry, they’ll love you.”

People always do. He makes sure of it.

That’s not the problem.

 

* * *

 

Stargazing doesn’t work in the city where light pollution colours everything a dull orange at the latest of hours. On a bench by the bridge, Goro craned his neck until he felt the pull in his throat, but there was nothing to see in the night sky except the absence of.

“If you do this roadtrip thing,” Ren said, “I wanna go.”

He was a warm pair of shoulders Goro draped his arm around, a soft head of hair he toyed with, and when Goro brought his gaze back to Earth, two outstretched legs in his peripheral. One foot bounced in time to a song playing in his head. All Goro could hear was the sounds of a city at one in the morning.

“Obviously you’re coming with me,” he muttered. He didn’t need to see it to know Ren had some smirk on his face.

“Good. But I got a condition.”

“Oh? You say that as if you’re the one doing me a favour.”

“I am. See how far you get without my van.”

“Abroad, for starters.”

Ren’s foot came to a stop.

“There’s only so far you can drive in Japan before you hit water,” Goro said. His fingers searched to find the hair at Ren’s nape, then brushed up, curled in and scratched idly at his scalp. Ren’s gaze dug its way under his skin so Goro kept his attention firmly on the city lights dancing over the water’s surface.

“That’s the same anywhere.”

And the world is round; you keep going and eventually end up right where you started. But if you don’t go anywhere, you end up stagnating and before you know it years have passed and you’re stuck in a city you hate, taking these drives in the quietest hours for some semblance of escape.

Goro sighed. “What’s your condition?”

“Gotta visit my family.”

Ren being the way that he is, he worded it like an obligation but whether he did it for Goro’s benefit or his own, even he might not have known. Two, three years in Tokyo and his visits home had become fewer and fewer. Busy with work was always the excuse.

And as for Goro… well.

But he deflected: “Are you finally telling them about us?”

Ren hummed and scratched his temple. “I dunno. If it comes up. Though I guess you meeting them is kinda a big deal… but we’ve never really been big on ceremony or anything… I dunno. Why, do you want me to? Are you that proud of our relationship? Wanna shout it from the rooftop? I’m touched.”

In spite of himself, Goro smiled. “I’m only wondering how else you would explain. Am I just a friend you’re living with? In a one-bedroom apartment? Traveling with? Sleeping together, cramped in the back of a van, as friends do?”

“Some do. Bandmates.”

Ren only put on an innocent face when Goro gave him a flat look. For longer than they’ve been together, he always said the only reason his parents don’t know he’s bisexual is because they never asked. The truth was never something he shied away from but it also was never anything he gave up without reason. He always did play his cards close to his chest.

But it wasn’t about coming out; it was Goro trying to get a handle on the situation. Family was new ground. He knew the basics. He didn’t know how he fit into them.

Goro went back to staring at the water’s depths while Ren waited patiently for an answer. Eventually the force of his gaze became too much and Goro gave the hair at his nape a playful tug. Ren exaggerated, letting his head fall back until his eyes swallowed the starless sky, but he only got out the beginning of a complaint before Goro was leaning over him.

“It’s a deal,” he said, sealing it with a kiss.

 

* * *

 

The van doors slam shut and Goro doesn’t hear what their greeting is, but it’s spoken gently, kindly — for Ren’s ears only. His mother reaches up to hold his face and whatever he retorts with comes out annoyed, but he doesn’t move to swat her hands away.

Goro remains by the hood, hesitating and planning out his inevitable greeting, the right smile and the right tone to make the perfect first impression.

For all that he knows but hasn’t experienced, Goro may as well have read a full dossier on the Amamiya family — or he could write it himself. Everything Ren ever said about them stuck with him, the way the aftertaste of bitter medicine might, and Goro’s busy mind can’t help but piece together whatever he leaves out. Always looking for answers, always completing the puzzle before him.

Old detective habits die hard but what once would have been used to build a profile now paints a picture of someone he holds terrifyingly close. Every little thing that makes Ren the way that he is, he wants to know.

The house behind them is the one Ren grew up in and the girl waiting in its doorway, crossing her arms against the cool evening air, is his younger sister. His older sister has long since moved out. Once she catches word Ren is visiting, she’ll charge over and Ren will complain about how loud she is without any real weight behind it.

“Your father’s working late,” Goro hears, “but your grandpa’s here. I told you, right? That he’s been staying with us?”

She adds something else, something quieter Goro can’t hear, and Ren sighs forcefully.

The Amamiyas are, in every sense of the word, average.

The scene is, in every sense of the word, unfamiliar.

Finally remembering that he’s there, Ren looks over his shoulder and gestures for Goro to join them. The introduction is by name only — no ‘my friend’ or ‘my boyfriend’ prefixes. The same goes for when they make their way up the path and meet Ren’s sister. He is just Akechi Goro and any further conclusion is theirs to figure out or his to divulge.

There is, he supposes, a certain kind of freedom in it — the same sense when the public forgot him, when the ground dropped away and left him adrift with no anchor to place himself.

They’re left alone in the entranceway for a moment and Goro reaches out to place his hand against the small of Ren’s back. Warm from his shed jacket and from spending hours pressed against the passenger seat. His own hand is cold in contrast, stiff joints creaking with every movement. But the warmth spreads and Goro sighs.

The muscle beneath twists as Ren himself does, looking over his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all,” Goro says, taking his hand back. But still those eyes watch — not accusingly but far too used to lies to just accept every word at face value, so he smiles and gestures down the hall. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t take long for the stiffness to spread like rust until his face is sore from smiling. The first respite he gets is when Ren’s mother refuses his help with dinner and he sits waiting, staring at the table, listening to Ren and her in the kitchen.

The thump of a pot being set down startles him out of his reverie. The grin on Ren’s face says it was on purpose.

“You look bored,” he says, sinking onto the floor beside him. “Sorry about this.”

Before Goro can say anything, a second thump comes from his left. This one is distant and comes with the squeak of a stair, made to sound laborious when it’s eventually followed by another, and then another. The smile slowly slips from Ren’s face. He frowns at his mother, who places another dish on the table, but all she does is shake her head.

An elderly man appears from the hallway. The hand not gripping a cane slides along the wall for extra support, knuckles swollen and skin mottled. As soon as he sees his grandson, his smile is all gums and missing teeth.

“Well look at you,” he says in a voice dry as dust. “Face of a man now; I barely recognized you.”

Ren smiles back.

More footsteps on the stairs sound, quicker this time, and then Ren’s sister is with them again, her hair bouncing and her words spilling out a mile a minute, asking her mother about going to a friend’s tomorrow.

The conversation shifts gear with her arrival and Goro tries to let himself be swept up in the flow. Being so average, they fall into the patterns that everyone always does. After they’re all seated and halfway through their plates, things turns to Goro himself, and then there is that old inevitable awkwardness after what works as truth these days comes out.

The momentum falters and they look awkward, pitying, and Goro plows through as if it’s his job to get them back to safe ground. As if it’s his fault. And maybe at one point he would have believed it, but now all he can be is annoyed.

And Ren is certainly no help. This whole time he’s barely said anything, only speaking when spoken to. The house grows more crowded when his father comes home, then again when his older sister barges in, and the louder they get, the quieter he becomes.

“Ren,” Goro murmurs. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Upstairs, first door on the right.”

“Would you show me? I’d hate to get lost.”

Ren looks unimpressed at the flimsy excuse but gets to his feet regardless. They excuse themselves and head for the second floor, Goro watching Ren’s back as they go. When they get there, Ren leans against the wall and closes his eyes. Still, Goro watches. The silence sits hollow and he wants more than anything to fill it, but he keeps his mouth shut. Not this time.

One foot tapping against the floor, Goro checks his watch. At the very least they’ll be able to sleep soon. They’ll be able to say it was a long drive and they’ve got an even longer one ahead of them, then they can sleep most of this visit away.

“I haven’t seen my grandpa in a long time,” Ren says, eyes still closed.

Goro lets his hand drop and he waits, but Ren doesn’t show any intention of continuing.

“Are you not close?”

Ren shrugs. Something is clearly bothering him, but he shows no intention of specifying.

“You seem close,” Goro prods.

“We get along.”

And that’s not the same thing.

Goro’s thoughts drift down the stairs, to where he can hear the murmur of conversation.

The only impression Ren’s grandfather left was that he was an old man in every sense — missing teeth, unpleasant to watch eat, and confused additions to the conversation — something Goro doesn’t have much experience with. People he work with retire long before ever reaching that age.

“He seems nice,” Goro tries a little lamely.

“Yeah, well…” Ren finally opens his eyes, only to turn his head and stare down the hall. “Only ‘cause if he’s got a problem, he won’t say it to your face.”

“Is that why?”

“Is that why what?”

“You two aren’t close.”

“What? I mean — I guess. I dunno.”

The careless tone in his voice implies this isn’t what’s bothering him but Goro’s pride stops him from asking outright. He of all people should be able to figure it out. All those facts about Ren’s past swirling around his head amount to absolutely nothing. Just like all those years ago when the Thieves outsmarted him, he’s missing the crucial pieces.

“I should get back,” Ren says, pushing away from the wall. “Don’t fall in the toilet.”

With that, he’s gone. As soon as he rejoins everyone in the dining room, his big sister’s voice echoes up the stairs, a million miles away, and Goro is left with barely enough ground to stand on.

 

* * *

 

The pink sunrise stretches up from the rooftops and across the watery blue, birdsong rings out from the gently swaying trees, and Goro’s eyes are so dry they threaten to shrivel up and fall out of his head. Try as he might to blink the sleep away, the dryness persists.

He’s still trying to rub his tear ducts into action when the van’s back door slams shut and Ren appears around the side, holding a thermos of coffee and looking just as bad as Goro feels. Goro reaches over and tries to fix a piece of hair sticking up but it bounces right back.

“Are you ready to go?”

Ren nods. “All set.”

“I’ll drive.”

Goro makes to open the driver’s side door but Ren places his hand flat against the window and holds it shut. He holds his hand up, telling Goro to wait while he yawns, then finally explains: “You were tossing and turning all last night; you didn’t sleep much, did you? I can drive.”

“I hardly think you’re in a better position than I am.”

“Me? I slept like a baby.” Ren takes a deep breath and rubs his hand vigorously over his face then blinks his eyes wide. As if by pure force of will, he already looks more convincingly awake. “I just need to wake up. You need to sleep.”

Goro holds Ren’s gaze over the thermos as he drinks, squinting in response to his raised eyebrows, then concedes with a sigh and holds up the keys.

“I don’t know how well I’ll be able to sleep with your driving but… thank you.”

Ren grins and takes the keys, making a point to grab Goro’s whole hand and pull him close. The van is between them and the house, so it’s okay when he pulls Goro closer and gives him a quick kiss.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unfurls my essay abt why middle child ren makes sense


	2. Chapter 2

No matter where you’re going in Japan, you can get there in a day if you really try, and starting from Tokyo they were already halfway. Ikeda was another halfway point; the next step is to make their way to the Fukuoka-Busan ferry, way in the west. Cutting halves in half until the world is so small it feels like they’re not moving at all.

Just outside of Ako is where they actually aren’t.

“Should’ve taken the stupid bullet train,” Ren mutters, slamming the hood shut. A faint trail of vapor curls from the grille. “It’s overheated.”

Goro leans against the passenger-side fender and meets Ren’s glare with a mild smile. “That _was_ my plan originally.”

Every resource said no, if you’re going to roadtrip across Japan then don’t drive, take the train. Highway tolls get expensive and in between each landmark and congested city there is nothing but hours of countryside. But Ren insisted on the van, hauling it around like some past glory, and Goro saw the value in carving their own way through.

“Well… at least we couldn’t have picked a more beautiful spot to break down.” Goro gestures to the city behind them, nestled amidst hills and mountains. “Doubtless you know the forty-seven ronin? This is _the_ place where—”

Ren gives it his middle finger.

A high-pitched whine makes him look over his shoulder.

“Sorry.” Goro presses a hand over his stomach as if he can quell the noise after the fact. “I’m alright. Once the engine cools off, it’s just a little longer until we stop for the night; I can eat then. It wouldn’t do to waste the food we packed.”

Ren stares at him for a while longer, then turns back to Ako.

“Bet there’s a service station close by. I could go get you something.”

“Right,” Goro scoffs, “like I’m going to make you walk all that way just for—”

“Bye.”

“ _Wait_ , hey—” Goro catches his arm before he gets out of reach. A car passes without slowing, bringing with it the roar of an engine and whipping wind that nearly cover his next words. “Thank you, but I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

Joker himself grins and sweeps one foot behind himself, bowing deep with an arm over his stomach. “I would go to the ends of the earth to satisfy your smallest whim.” Ren straightens up and adopts a more careless tone. “Also I was gonna get some coolant for the van anyway.”

Goro squints at him, crossing his arms. “You should’ve had coolant to begin with.”

“Yeah, well… I wasn’t the one blasting the AC.” Ren checks his watch. “We could play the blame game all day — you want food or not?”

Whatever argument Goro might’ve used gets drowned out by his growling stomach and Ren ends up leaving with a smile and a promise to be back as quick as he can.

With nothing to do but wait, Goro opens the van’s back door and reclines onto the bed inside. A breeze circulates, warm compared to the air conditioning but not altogether unpleasant when coupled with the shade. In no time at all he ends up on his phone; in even less, he takes a picture of his outstretched legs and the view outside, then puts it down. Picks it back up. Puts it down, picks it up, and uploads the photo with a caption bemoaning their situation.

Comments come in like everyone was waiting for news. Makoto gives suggestions on how to take care of an overheating engine, Ann reassures, Ryuji laughs at their expense.

Part of the allure the van offered compared to the bullet train was a _real_ road trip experience — camping and cooking for himself, driving himself rather than being shuttled around. And that, as much as he has yet to admit it to himself, is something he can take pictures of to show people what he accomplished. As if the trip isn’t worth anything if it doesn’t exist to other people too.

The adoring crowds are gone but he’s still here, and he needs something to prove it.

 

* * *

 

“I’m not surprised Ren is doing this,” his mother had said.

Everyone else wandered off after dinner, leaving her and Goro at the table with cups of coffee and, in her case, a cigarette. Ren himself was upstairs with his sisters and the only reason Goro knew was because he had watched him go; voices occasionally rang down but neither was his.

“He’s always been… restless, I guess is the word.”

“That’s one way to describe him,” Goro snorted.

Ren had left with a smile and an _I’ll be right back_ which made it clear he wasn’t invited, and while Goro had no interest in clinging to his arm, the only option he was left with was hanging out with his mother. A few embarrassing childhood stories would be repayment enough.

Goro leaned against the table. “He was like this when he was younger too?”

“Just about.”

She paused, thoughtful, and the cigarette smoke coiled pointlessly. Her gaze was trained on the men watching TV in the living room like she wasn’t really seeing them, and when Goro followed it he recognized Ren in his father’s features. She must have seen the same.

“I used to babysit some neighbourhood kids,” she said, “and when Ren would play with them, if they went off to do something he didn’t want to do, he just… wouldn’t. He’d play by himself instead. He’s always done his own thing.”

The cherry flared with a deep drag. Laughter blared from the TV and from the kids in the institution — too many of them in a yard too small, watched by a caretaker who couldn’t wait for her shift to end and she smoked too, it smelled just like this, and she just watched the kids play while Goro tried to be the centre of them, always, because being alone was never a choice for him.

“—used to sneak out his window at night. Did he ever tell you about that?”

The wooden grain of the table under his arm and the warm porcelain cup in his hands. Drinking coffee worse than Leblanc’s, Goro thought of the smugness in Ren’s voice and forced a laugh.

“I doubt he could have kept quiet about it even if he wanted to.”

She clucked her tongue, but the smile on her face was fond. “Still, he never got into anything bad and his marks were decent, so we let it slide. Guess we let a lot slide. Kids don’t learn anything with their parents hovering over them; my parents were strict, so I always…”

A small frown creased her brow and two streams of smoke shot from her nostrils.

“Anyway, he’s a good boy; sharp as a tack, good head on his shoulders… I just wish he would start taking things seriously. After the arrest, I thought maybe…”

In lieu of a response, Goro hid his face in his cup and inhaled the scent of coffee rather than the overpowering stench of cigarettes. That was when it hit him just how wide the chasm stretched between Ren and his family. Too much was erased with the Metaverse; they didn’t know anything. The TV in the other room mixed with laughter from upstairs, laughter from the past, and it was all too loud, too many people in one house — a house Goro didn’t belong in. That maybe neither of them belonged in.

Light footsteps pattered down the stairs and Ren appeared in the living room. His grandfather called out to him, patting the couch beside him, but Ren shook his head and smiled, then met Goro’s eye and made his way to the table.

“I can’t say I really approve of a road trip, but…” After one final drag, Ren’s mother snuffed the cigarette in an ashtray and smiled at a boy who once held a gun to her son’s head and pulled the trigger. “I’m glad he’s not alone. Watch out for him, won’t you?”

She really didn’t know a goddamn thing.

Goro returned the smile with every bit of sweetness he could muster, breathing through the weight on his chest, as Ren came to a stop beside the table looking curious about their conversation.

“Of course I will.”

 

* * *

 

They learn nothing from their mistakes and once the van is running again, Ren cranks the air conditioning all the way up. According to him, he just hoofed it all the way to the gas station in weather hotter than Satan’s balls, so he deserves to relax while Goro chauffeurs him to a nearby park with lots of shade.

“That’s… fair,” Goro says, “I suppose. But call me a chauffeur again and you’ll be walking even farther.”

“Love it when you’re mean.”

With their shoes off, bare feet up on the dash, they share the gas station lunchbox and Ren talks about the pop they were selling. He holds up a bottle of what looks like carbonated piss and says it’s local and hard to find. If he notices the look Goro gives him then he ignores it with ease.

“I wanna keep an eye out for more,” he says, “especially once we get to Busan.”

Goro turns to rest his back against the door and his head on the the seat. The scent of nanban sauce drifts from the box between them while Ren toys with the pop bottle, rolling it around to read the label.

“There’s this Korean brand I wanna find, they’ve got this caramel flavour, but they don’t ship internationally.” He goes to rip off the label, then stops himself and flexes his restless fingers. “I mean, who knows when we’ll get to travel again, right?”

“We’ll find it,” Goro insists. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Of course we’ll find it.”

It might be an empty promise but the subdued tone in Ren’s voice makes him want to do what he can. The smile he gets in return is worth it, at least. 

The bottle catches the sunlight and reflects it back onto Ren’s cheek, the same way the bottles lining their windowsills back home often do, dappling rays of light on their floor, their bed, on the shelves of books and cluttered belongings. They’ve accumulated over time. Bottles of all different shapes wrapped in different labels and filled with cut flowers Ren brings home from work.

Here on the road, that bottle will get stuffed into luggage and if they’re lucky, it won’t break.

And Ren just keeps staring at it long after his smile fades.

“Ren? Look at me.”

He finally does. The noise of surprise he makes gets smothered in a kiss and Goro finds that the yellow pop tastes, of all things, like cream soda.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long, i fell into ffxiv and depression

“It would be nice,” Goro says, “to live in a place like this.”

From behind his camera, Ren’s murmur of agreement is nearly lost in the sea’s ebb and flow. A low wall separates them from the beach below and Goro leans against it, taking another bite of his popsicle as he watches a nearby family get ready to leave.

“You should see Hawaii.” Ren finishes taking a picture, then turns to cock his hip against the wall. “You’d love it.”

“I’m sure I would. Next year, perhaps.”

Ren lifts the camera again, pointing it at Goro’s face.

“Or we could go now.”

Blue raspberry ice slides down Goro’s throat. The food stalls behind them fill the briny air with the scent of grilled meat while the bass from someone’s car rumbles beneath the din of chatter and crying seagulls. All of it, muted as they stare at each other — until Goro laughs, adding his voice into the mix since Ren won’t.

“If only we weren’t headed in the wrong direction.”

And even though Goro gets a grin in response, he knows better than to think it was a joke.

“Hurry and take your picture,” he sighs.

“It’s a video.”

“What? Don’t—”

Goro tries to snatch the camera away but Ren is as quick as ever, taking a step out of arm’s reach. Once he sees that Goro has no intention of chasing him, opting instead for a glare, only then does Ren lower the camera and lean against the wall again. He shows him the image on-screen: Goro backed by the sea and sunset.

“I was kidding. You looked good, that’s all.”

“Hm… well, thank you.”

A breeze blows Ren’s hair into his eyes and Goro brushes it away, letting his hand linger, while in the other, the popsicle melts and trickles between his fingers. Ren leans into the touch, his eyes never leaving Goro’s, until his phone goes off. Goro lets his hand fall.

His older sister, Ren says, declining the call. He’ll get back to her later.

But later is when they’re heading back to the van and driving around looking for a place to park for the night. Later is when Ren turns his phone off and leaves it behind as they make a run to a nearby bar and drink more than they should, then stagger back to fall into bed.

They arrived in Fukuoka all too quickly. Tomorrow they’ll cross the sea and take the ferry to Busan, then eventually retrace their steps back home. Another halfway point but this time it’s the beginning of the end.

Drunk as he is, with his face buried in the pillow and Ren’s fingers tracing his spine, Goro starts drifting off. Sleep only makes morning come that much sooner, so he talks about the things he wants to see and do in Busan, food he wants to try. And Ren listens, humming his acknowledgment now and then.

“Apparently the Skybridge is cool,” he offers quietly. Propping himself up on one elbow and resting his chin on his hand slurs his words just as much as the alcohol does.

In an attempt to find comfort in the heat, Goro rolls onto his back and stretches himself as tall as the cramped van will allow. “Then we’ll have to see for ourselves.”

A breeze floats through the passenger window, and it must be a lingering impression that makes it smell so vibrantly of the sea. If he closes his eyes then he’s in an apartment with voile curtains framing the ocean. Bright and white, with bookshelves and potted plants, just like the places he sees in pictures online.

Then in the middle of it all, a black cat with a rather smug face.

Fingers caress Goro’s cheek. The imaginary apartment becomes their apartment in Tokyo, with crooked movie posters on the wall and Ren’s pop bottle collection lining the windowsills, then the van, with just the two of them on the hard floor. From salted air to coffee and curry, to beer and breath and lips against his. Goro follows the touch and deepens the kiss, and then he is nowhere but beside Ren.

He wraps his arms around Ren’s shoulders and pulls. With none of Joker’s agility, Ren staggers and catches himself with his elbow, accidentally kicking a glass bottle among the luggage by the wall.

“ _Careful_ ,” Goro hisses.

“That was your f—”

Another kiss shuts him up.

Cats and thirty year old video games and flowers and posters — the way the sunlight refracts off glass bottles would be the same anywhere but as the clutter accumulates, the void it would leave grows.

The weight of Ren’s body pressing down is invasive and overbearing. It’s hot and they’re drunk and the world is swirling, but Goro tightens his grip and welcomes the vertigo.

“I can’t go back to Tokyo,” he breathes.

Ren pauses, but only for a moment.

“We don’t have to.”

 

* * *

 

“To be honest, I’m a little disappointed.” The couch springs groaned as Goro rolled over to face the futon on the floor, then yanked back the blankets. Ren pulled them back up. “Here I had this elaborate fantasy about going through your childhood room and embarrassing you.”

The futon lump moved with a shrug.

“There’s nothing here anymore,” Ren said. “Sorry.”

Being the only son in a three bedroom house, he had his own room growing up. That was no longer the case with his grandfather staying there — which was fine, he said, he took everything he cared about when he moved out. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just a room.

Night coloured the world in shades of grey, but when Goro stuck his hand up to check his nails, the streetlight outside turned it orange. The smallest movement became shifting tectonic plates in the silence; the creaking house, the rustle of fabric, and Ren’s mutter from under the blanket.

“It’s weirder than I thought being back here.”

Someone upstairs coughed, a reminder that they weren’t alone which somehow made it feel like Goro’s next words weren’t just for Ren. He turned his hand, watching the shadows his knuckles cast stretch until they were entirely lost to the dark.

“We’ll be free soon enough.”

 

* * *

 

“And we’ll go to Hawaii, like I said. Stop by Paris on the way.”

Goro’s laugh comes out cold and condescending despite how warm it is trapped against the crook of Ren’s neck.

“Paris,” he says, “how original.”

“Tuscany,” Ren offers instead, “Stockholm,” and his fingers trail up Goro’s side like he’s tracing the path they’ll take across the world. “Montreal,” his voice wavering when Goro nips his earlobe. “We can go wherever we want — do whatever we want.”

Goro stares at the ceiling over Ren’s shoulder. Heat and alcohol strangle him until nothing comes out when he opens his mouth, so he places his hand against Ren’s chest and pushes. Their skin unsticks painfully. Goro braces himself up on his elbows as Ren sits back on his hips, his confusion obvious.

“And then what?”

Ren’s face smoothes into a stony mask.

“After we travel the world,” Goro clarifies, “assuming we can afford it in the first place, of course, what then?”

Ren leans back, so Goro bends his legs to give him something to sit against. Alcohol paves the way for bravado and the answer he gets is, “We cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Goro scoffs, Ren smiles. They stare at each other until Goro starts rubbing his thumbs in circles against Ren’s thighs, watching his hands just to avoid the weight of his gaze.

“When I was looking stuff up for this trip,” Ren says, “I found the blog of a couple that lives on the road. They live out of their van, just like this. I think… something like that would be fun.”

“It sounds like quite the way to live,” Goro murmurs.

“Yeah… I mean, I grew up in Ikeda. Figured I was gonna die there, but then Tokyo happened and — I mean, the circumstances sucked but it was fun. World’s a pretty big place; I think it’d be fun spending your life exploring it. One big adventure, right?”

“Hm. You sure are talkative when you’re drunk.”

“I just like talking to you,” Ren smiles.

Goro turns his head but then the only thing to see is the side of the van. A dull, metal wall and the windows that frame the night night sky, which is still — just like in Tokyo — completely starless.

“An adventure… certainly. But it seems awful pointless, doesn’t it?”

His elbows are starting to ache from holding his weight against the thin futon. If he tries, he can feel the fixtures in the floor where the seats used to be. He fidgets rather than ease the pain, reveling in it as if it proves some point, and his foot nudges the glass bottle beside the luggage.

That stupid bottle, little more than garbage without cut flowers and refracted light.

“The way I see it,” Goro says, “home is every bit as important as the destination of a trip. What point is there in going anywhere if you’ll hate where you are when it’s all over? There’s… something lovely about knowing you have a home to come back to.”

“Not really a problem if it never ends.”

“Everything ends.”

Ren snorts.

“Deep.”

 

* * *

 

“My sister knows, by the way. About us.”

Goro looked over, letting his hand fall. “Which one? Did you tell her?”

“Sumi.” The older one, then. “And no, apparently we’re just really obvious.” Ren groaned dramatically and rolled onto his side. “Hey, I’m… thinking I might just tell them soon. They’re not bad people, they won’t care or  anything — well, my grandpa will but he won’t say anything so it doesn’t matter. You okay with that?”

“It’s your decision.”

“I mean… not just mine.”

Ren propped his head up on one hand and reached out with the other, hooking his fingers around Goro’s. The way gravity pulled them bent Goro’s arm at a weird angle, so he rolled over to face him and switched hands.

“For what it’s worth,” Ren said, “Sumi likes you. Said you were probably out of my league.”

“‘Probably’.”

“I told her she just doesn’t know you.”

Goro tried to pull his hand away. Ren stubbornly kept his grip.

According to him, the Amamiyas had always been a family of liars, content to avert their eyes as long as it avoided conflict. The way he used to be too, before the arrest. Always stagnant, always complacent.

“Not Sumi though,” he said, swinging their hands like a kid. “Always spoke her mind, always did what she wanted. Always thought that was cool. When she wasn’t annoying the shit out of me, I mean.”

Goro let go and tucked his hand under the blanket he pulled up to his chin. Unsure of what to really say, he stayed silent and listened to Ren talk about a teacher he had in high school. This teacher also taught his sister once upon a time and would always compare the two. Ikeda was a decent size, but not big enough to escape familiarity.

The story was an old one that was told with that tone of disdain every time.

“Hm… and here I thought you liked working in the shadows.”

Ren’s mouth twisted like he was chewing the inside of his cheek trying to fight a smile.

“If you want to tell them,” Goro said, “it’s fine with me.”

The smile did break through then, if only for a while.

“Eh. I dunno. We’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

Aching elbows finally get to him and Goro lets himself collapse against the bed. He closes his eyes, refusing to look out the window or at Ren, and wills sleep to come. Denying it earlier was a mistake, because now he’s starting to sober up and the world from this side of drunk is never any fun.

“You’re saying you’re not happy.”

Goro pinches his bridge and squeezes his eyes shut tighter.

Ren has a very unfortunate resting face that seems far more condescending than he actually is (most of the time) and it’s only gotten worse since he stopped wearing those glasses. Sitting back against Goro’s legs, looking down his nose — you wouldn’t have to look to know what his face looks like.

“This isn’t about you,” Goro mutters. “Don’t make it.”

“I’m not, I’m just wondering why you never talked to me. I could’ve helped.”

“How?”

“I dunno, I—”

“I hate Tokyo.” Goro lets his hand fall and opens his eyes, choosing the window over Ren’s face. “I hate living there and I don’t want to do it anymore. I never should have to begin with but—”

The weight on his hips shifts, hesitant at first, until Ren lifts himself up completely.

The fact of the matter is they are two separate people with two separate lives — entwined, but separate. For every one of Ren's good memories in Tokyo, Goro has two bad. There was nowhere else to go where he wouldn’t be utterly alone, so Goro had stayed, and now everything he built is polluted at the roots and decaying from the bottom up.

“I can’t ask you to leave everyone,” Goro says, “and… I wouldn’t want to, myself. I’m trying and I’m trying to think of a solution, but…”

They’ve been past the point of distrust for a long time but nothing will ever change the fact that the more you have, the more you stand to lose. Any plans Goro makes for himself now have to account for another person, but coexisting feels like some puzzle he has yet to figure out.

“Hey,” Ren says. He lies down beside Goro, propping his head up on his hand, and Goro finally looks over to see a face far softer than he expected. “Look, let’s just go to bed for now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad I know. I probably knew already, honestly. We’ll figure something out eventually, but we’re both tired and I dunno about you but I’m sobering up and… let’s just go to bed, yeah?”

Ren holds his arms open. Goro shakes his head.

“It’s too hot.”

Ren holds his arms open wider. Goro sighs and rests his head on his chest.

A hand comes to rest against his cheek, fingers combing through his hair to tuck it behind his ear. The heat makes everything slow and fuzzy, Ren’s fingers like sludge as they slide along the shell of Goro’s ear and massage his lobe.

“Drinking the night before we have to get on a boat was a bad idea,” Ren murmurs. Every one of his words is heard twice, rumbling through his chest and floating through the air. “You’re supposed to be the smart one. Should’ve stopped us.”

“You’re rubbing off on me.”

Ren snorts and it catches in the back of his throat.

“You always like when I do, though,” he says, once he finishes coughing.

Goro twists his nipple until he lets out an ungodly screech.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, their hands are clumsy and their words are slurred. The heat must have become too much during the night, because they woke up on opposite sides of the bed, and now they squint through the blinding sun to smirk at each other’s hair, mussed by dried sweat. Neither has it in them to say ‘I told you so.’

The silence grows. Goro’s smile falters and Ren refuses to look away.

From a public bath to a breakfast consisting of yet more convenience store food, they barely speak. Their tickets are for the ferry at 11:20am; by a quarter to, they’re waiting in the van, eating while Goro talks. The book he’s been reading lately, musing about how things are going at work without him there, picking apart a text that Sae sent him — any mindless bullshit that will drown out last night.

Like he just realized, Ren’s hand twitches toward his pocket, mumbling about how he forgot to turn his phone back on. Something in his messages makes him frown, and without hesitation he makes a call.

“Sumi, hey. Sorry, I had my phone off. No, we’re just about to — what?”

Ren pauses halfway through turning the radio down, mouth hanging slack, and Goro watches curiously, sucking his fingers clean of the chicken he stole from Ren’s bento. Whatever his sister says, it’s impossible to hear over the music. Ren yanks his hand back, taps a rhythm against his thigh, and turns until Goro can only see the back of his head.

“Uh… when? How?”

A tone in his voice makes Goro freeze, finger in his mouth like some kind of idiot.

“No, uh… I don’t know. I-I’ll call you later. I don’t _know_ , okay? I’ll call later.”

Ren hangs up without saying goodbye. A full verse and bridge later, the hand gripping his phone is still white-knuckled.

“Is everything alright?”

Ren jerks around like he forgot Goro was there, quickly covering it up with a calm face. He clears his throat and goes to nod, switching halfway through to shake his head no.

“What is it?”

“Uh…” Ren opens his mouth but nothing more comes out. He swallows and tries again. “My grandpa, uh…”

The crescendo builds. The melody turns to static sludge, pressing in, pressing down, but neither moves to turn the radio off. The measure of time beats on.


End file.
